


Too Sexy For It

by athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Series: Hudson Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blooming Rose, Dragon Age II - Act 1, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I Hope You Find Heatstrokes Sexy, Injury Recovery, Power Imbalance, Prompt Fic, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Hawke got hit with a curse, and the only way to save his life is to strip off his shirt.





	Too Sexy For It

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for m!Hawke/Athenril, “You need to take your shirt off.”

“Hey, you can’t-”

“Shut it,” Athenril said, holding a single finger up to the matron of the Blooming Rose. Behind her, two of her hooded henchmen were taking another of their comrades by their arms, dragging his lifeless body through the doorway as his heels scraped the ground below him in a discombobulated fashion.

Madam Lusine, knowing full well who these people were and the price of crossing them, drew herself up to her full height of about half a foot over Athenril, saying “I’m _not_ letting you use the Rose as your clandestine hospi-”

The redhead elf stopped in her tracks, wheeling around to face the madam. “Alright.”

Everything in the Rose, which already had slowed down to witness the bizarre entourage, now ground to a complete halt as Athenril dove into a concealed pouch on her studded-leather armour top, with some of the more skittish patrons and staff diving for cover when she swiftly withdrew her hand.

Thankfully, contained therein was no flask nor grenade, but just a handful of sovreigns, which she offered out to Madam Lusine.

“One room for the night. I know you have to have a healer here. Send him up.”

“I…”

“Make sure there’s no trouble tonight and there’s double that waiting for you.”

Eyes scanning the room filled with nervous and expectant guests, she conceded, saying, “Fine. But I _never_ want to see you or your thugs in here again.”

“What if I fancied a lay for the night?”

“Leave the weapons at the door and maybe we’ll talk. Maybe. Premium suite, top floor. Get your sick friend up there, I’ll get our usual fellow from Darktown.”

Athenril said, “No names. Tell him there’s a dying man that needs his help and pull on his heartstrings. There’s no more gold in it for you if his patient dies on me. I’ve got an elf and a working girl on the way too. Point them there once they get here and give them what they ask for. You got me?”

“Fine, whatever. Porfira’ll show you the way.”

Led by the waitress, the smugglers-of-sorts made their way to the premium suite, practically chasing Faith out of it as they deposited their comrade’s feverish body onto the lush bed. Athenril jerked her head to the door, and the two thieves nodded in return as they went over there to stand guard. Once it closed behind them, her stoic demeanour washed away.

“Okay, Hawke,” she said to her twitching henchman, “I _know_ you’ve been waiting for me to say this for a while now, but I need you to get your shirt off.”

Hawke, his head still wrapped in his hood and bandana, looked at her uncomprehendingly.

“Alright, I’m going to say this slowly for you. I don’t know _what_ spell that maleficar hit you with, but your body temperature’s rising faster than a rage demon’s and I need you to cool down, starting five minutes ago. Tomwise and Elegant are coming with help, but you _need_ to strip off that scale and banding I got you.”

He moved his hands towards his head, and took the hood off, but Athenril caught his hand as he started pulling at the corner of the bandana tied around his mouth.

“No. I told them no names or faces. I don’t want anyone tracing you from here. Come on then, Hawke, sit up.”

Hawke complied, wiping his brow even though the sweat had long since soaked into his head wrappings. Athenril reached for his sides, undoing the clasps and bindings holding his armour together, slipping his arms out of his sleeves one at a time and pulling his head through the centre hole none too gently, casting the whole thing to the ground with a clatter. His undershirt followed shortly after, joining the armour with a _flumph_.

Athenril stepped backward to examine her convalescent employee, picking up a faint commotion through the door downstairs.

Oh.

Oh my.

Hawke _had_ been holding out on her.

All those years in King Cailan’s army, drawing a bowstring and carving up practice dummies with his twin seaxes countless times and building up the strength to be his own pack-mule had definitely paid off. Skeins of perspiration glistened across his well-built chest and abdomen; he’d shed ounces and ounces of sweat in a vain attempt to drive his temperature down from the incredible fever wracking his system.

She’d almost forgotten what she’d stripped him for when the door swung open to reveal Tomwise and Elegant, carrying a bucket of ice and a bunch of thin satin satchels each. Athenril swung round, eyes searching for the healer.

Answering her unasked question, Tomwise said, “He’s on his way. Needed to get a salve or balm or something. But he said to bag up some ice and place it alongside his body.”

“Well, then?” she asked.

Without any further instruction, the two of them got to filling the small satchels with ice normally reserved for drinks and shoving them around Hawke’s head, neck and armpits as dictated by the healer they’d found. Tomwise started reaching for his beltline, then hesitated, slowly turning to Athenril.

“What’s the problem, Tomwise?”, she asked.

The other elf said, “Well, ah, we need to shove two of these between his legs.”

“Then _do it_ ,” she ordered.

Gulping as he nodded, Tomwise looked over at Elegant as he proceeded to undo the buttons holding Hawke’s trousers up. Down they came, revealing his smallclothes. Barely registering their contours, Athenril’s employees gently pulled his thighs aside to shove the ice bags where they needed to go, and minus an involuntary twitch, Hawke didn’t seem to notice very much of it. If they noticed Athenril’s gaze, they didn’t make a scene of it.

A knocking at a door shook them out of the moment, and Athenril quickly threw a sheet over Hawke’s face.

She barked, “Who is it?”

One of her henchmen replied through the door, saying, “Darktown healer.”

“Show him in.”

The door swung open, revealing Anders, his arms filled with potions.

After quickly surveying the room, he pointed at Hawke’s barely-conscious form, ordering, “Get that off his face.”

Athenril stepped between him and Hawke. “No names or faces. Besides mine.”

He stood his ground, holding up one of the many vials he’d brought. “ _This_ is going to save his life. And I need you to feed it to him.”

Glancing to the side, Athenril said, “Fine. Reveal his mouth, Elegant.”

Nodding, she pulled it up just enough to reveal Hawke’s mouth and jaw. Shrugging his shoulders, Anders went over the man on the bed, sensing his temperature using three of his fingers, tutting and shaking his head as he examined him. Finally, he pulled a short jar out from his cloak, revealing a thick, faintly blue, paste, which he proceeded to slather on the chest of the previously overheating man before him, before applying a healing spell.

“What was that?”, Athenril asked.

“Ice salve,” Anders explained. “It’ll cool him down pretty much straight away, so you can remove those ice packs in a few seconds.”

After waiting those few seconds, she snapped her fingers, and Tomwise and Elegant proceeded to pull them out from Hawke’s crevices, Tomwise discreetly covering up Hawke’s smalls after he was done. Anders turned to Athenril, carefully placing the dozen or so vials on the side table, picking one up and gently emptying it down Hawke’s throat, showing the empty vial to Athenril.

“He’s lost a lot of essential minerals from his system, sweating like a topside nug,” Anders explained, continuing, “Feed him one of these now, then once an hour. If he falls asleep, get him back up to speed once he’s up. He’s stable now, but he still needs them.”

“What’s in them?”, Athenril asked, taking it from him. Before he could respond, she sniffed the open top of the vial, saying, “ _Berry juice?_ ”

He crossed his arms, nonplussed. “Prophet’s Laurel. They’re very rare on this side of the Waking Sea, and it’s got everything he’ll need to go about running around the docks carving up maleficars or whatever it is that you do. I wouldn’t advise he do so again till a full day afterwards.”

“I’ll be the boss of that,” Athenril said, reaching for her purse. “How rare were we talking?”

“The salve was fifty silvers, and the tonics are ten each, so that’s a sovereign and seventy-”

She pushed a gold coin into his hand, cutting another in half with her knife on the table and passing one half of it to him. “My dagger doesn’t measure angles. Take it or leave it.”

Anders put the coin and piece away, conceding the point. “I suppose that’s the price to pay for putting another thug on the streets. Don’t worry, this doesn’t leave these four walls, _et cetera_. I’m hardly important enough for the Sharps to breathe down my neck anyway.”

With that, he left, and Athenril turned around to Tomwise and Elegant.

“Thanks. You’ve earned yourselves a little advance with your fast work. I’ll take it from here. Head back to HQ and tell them I want new guards six hours from now.”

She cut the remaining half into quarters, tossing them apiece to them as they left, leaving her alone in the top suite of the Blooming Rose with Hawke.

“Maker’s hairy tits, Hawke,” she said as she sat at the foot of the bed, “you’ve cost me a pretty penny tonight. At least you’ve shown you’re worth it.”

He pulled the cloth off his face, looking down at her as she idly rubbed her knees together. “Here I thought you kept me around because I was pretty. I could _feel_ your wandering eyes when Tomwise and Elegant were shoving all sorts of nasty cold things around my nethers.”

“You, on the other hand,” Athenril said as she lay prone alongside Hawke, “must be wondering if this some delirious dream, because you’ve finally managed to get me in the most expensive suite of the Blooming Rose.”

“I don’t know,” Hawke replied, asking, “ _are_ you going to demonstrate a Tantervale Knot?”

She slapped him gently on the shoulder, causing him to wince from the heat rash. “Trust me, Hawke, this is reality. Still, we do have the room to ourselves here.”

“I don’t think whoever it was had _this_ in mind, but I think I’m being advised to rest till I finish that course of tonics.”

“Well,” Athenril said, sitting up, “ _you_ don’t have to do anything.”

“How about…?” Hawke asked, glancing to the side.

“ _What_ about them?” she retorted, moving to the clasps on her shoulders. “Far as they know, I’m just making sure you don’t die on me. Hate to tell your mother that you bit it in the Blooming Rose of all places. Now shut up.”

“Yes, serah.”

Athenril pulled off her armoured top, revealing her smallclothes, draped over her small but perky breasts, and her toned figure, built from a rough life on the streets of Kirkwall. Like begot like, she supposed. She straddled Hawke, pressing her knee between his legs as she leant forward, kissing him on the forehead.

“Why,” Hawke said, “I think I feel my body temperature rising again.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up, Hawke?” Athenril asked, pulling aside her bra cups and shoving her chest in his face. He looked up, locking his gaze with her mint-green eyes as she lowered herself onto him, letting him wrap his lips around the tip of her breast, gasping as his tongue emerged to lap gently at it.

She looked down at him. “I think I like you here.”

Her nipple left his mouth as she got up, and she turned as she leaned back down, getting him to do the same to her other one. A deep hum of satisfaction passed her pursed lips as she felt Hawke shift around her knee.

“Hmm,” Athenril remarked, “I think you do too.”

Hawke broke away. “I think I do.”

“Well, I suppose I’m oddly glad that this happened. Figured it only took a curse to get your shirt off, Hawke.”

“And yours, serah,” he remarked.

“I’m a strong believer in equality, didn’t you know?” she asked ironically. “If I’m paying extra for you for things like this I might as well make the most of it. Any complaints, Hawke?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good boy,” she said, leaning in once again to kiss him on the lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/182684655590/


End file.
